Welcome to the Cons
++ Repair Bay ++ Starscream enters the from the ramp leading up into the Arena. The doors of the repair bay fly open with a dramatic BANG and in flies the vainglorious savior, laughing victoriously. He protoforms and lands on the foot of the berth Blast Off is lying on. His weight tilts the berth upwards a little bit, so that Blast Off has to look Starscream in the the optics. He stands erect for a moment, arms folded. Then he bears down, shifting his weight so that the berth tilts up even more. Blast Off may slide down a little. "Feeling better?" he asks with a smirk. Blast Off has been trying to feel. Feel 8anything*. He's safe now, relatively at least, and his body belongs to him again. No one's going to extract his spark here and stick it in a mind prison- which is what just nearly happened. But since he was rescued, he's found it hard to feel. Except cold. He feels very cold. Starscream's arrival causes the shuttleformer's dim optics to brighten again as he wakes from a near-recharge. He stares blankly at the Seeker, even when Starscream gets far too close. Sliding down slightly, he does catch himself- automatically, not because he really thinks about doing it. There's a long silence before he whispers, "... I'm alive." "Good," Starscream says, leaping off the foot of the berth gracefully and landing next to it. "I've always wondered," the seeker muses, "what it's like to almost have your worst nightmare realized," he circles the berth slowly, dragging a hand along it all the while. He smirks. Blast Off stares at the ceiling now that Starscream isn't right there in his face anymore. His optics flicker a little. The shuttle doesn't feel... "right" right now, and everything still seems a little surreal. The mention of his worst nightmare makes him almost want to purge... for that is what it was. He stood at the brink, and was pushed in- only to be yanked back out at the last second... by the mech standing here now. "What makes you... think that was my worst nightmare?" His voice is flat and still a little raspy. Starscream continues to circle the berth slowly. "Oh, I don't know, you were acting /unusually/ terrified," the jet answers, with a sly smile. "In fact, I'd say you were pretty much paralyzed with fear." He pats Blast Off on the helm, like the Combaticon is his kid or something (or is he?! In another life, in another life). "Thankfully, I intervened at just the right moment." Hint hint. Blast Off's optics dim slightly in faint irritation at the "paralyzed with fear" comment. His voice is still flat as he replies, "I was strapped to a table." Then he gets patted on the head. Normally this would produce a loud HUFF and flinch from the shuttle... but at most he barely notices. It does at least cause him to turn his gaze from the ceiling to the Seeker. Ah. THAT's what he's after. "...I suppose." The seeker clenches his fists, looking slightly irritated. "Don't deny it Blast Off, you were scared witless, I'm no idiot I could tell you were." He sighs. "You /suppose/?" he turns to face the Combaticon, arms folded. Blast Off would normally get QUITE huffy and annoyed by that. But right now he's just... shut down. All his mental walls fell right on top of him, and he's buried in the rubble. However, he does let out a small sigh. "I wasn't... scared witless." He may not remember how to feel much, but he seems to slip into denial pretty easily again. His gaze returns to the ceiling. He can't deny everything, though, he finds. "However... it..." The shuttle allows himself to sink back down on his medtable, feeling exhausted. "...It was not anything I ever care to experience again." Starscream scowls. "This is the part where you express your undying gratitude to ME for saving your sorry aft," the seeker snaps, cutting to the chase. "Primus," he says, placing a hand on his fore helm, "you ungrateful piece of slag. I'm /insulted/." Blast Off just looks at him- ungratefully. Ok, maybe not ungratefully, but he doesn't appreciate being called a piece of slag. Still, his response is far more subdued than usual. He stares... then turns to look back at the ceiling. "Fine. Thank you." Starscream smirks. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he says, sliding over the Combaticon's side with a smirk. He leans towards Blast Off. He's only partially satisfied. "You are here, in this repair bay, simply because /I/ chose to allow you to be here today. Otherwise, you'd be an imprisoned spark right now." A devious laugh. "Don't you think you at least owe me that much? And this has been a long time coming. Your brothers have all joined, or will join soon. How much longer are you going to tarry? Especially since I scooped you up out the claws of danger and torture, the only logical decision would be the join my cause." Blast Off is expecting all sorts of "favors" to be demanded of him by the sly Seeker. THAT one... surprises him. The shuttleformer blinks, his violet optics meeting Starscream's red ones. And he considers this. All that it means. He delays a bit, though, asking, "You... want me to become a Decepticon?" Starscream gives Blast Off an exasperated look. "You make it sound so anticlimactic," the seeker says, placing his thumb and forefinger on his own helm. "Yes, genius, you figured it out," he says blandly. Then he smirks, folding his arms and leaning towards the Combaticon again. "What say you?" Blast Off looks at him blankly. However, inside there's turmoil. The Combaticon doesn't like being beholden to anyone. He doesn't like following orders. He doesn't like being told what to do. And he will be, if he joins their cause. He can see the writing on the wall. There may well be war- and he'd become a soldier again. But Starscream is probably right... Blast Off does owe the Decepticons. Sixshot saved his metal hide the day he fell from the sky in flames. Hook repaired him, even Rumble has shown him a decent side he's rarely seen anywhere else lately. And he almost met a fate worse than death the other cycle- saved once more- by the Decepticons. His team- his brothers- they are Decepticons, too. He is the last holdout and his experience in Kolkular was a sober reminder that as much as he might *wish* it were true- he can't go it alone. He needs his team. He needs someone to have his back. And last: secretly, he is always lonely. He *wants* to belong somewhere. It's the other Combaticons, finally, that make him turn to Starscream. "I... I choose to become a Decepticon." Starscream grins broadly, and claps Blast Off on the back. "I knew it," he says, "you're a good sport, after all." He laughs, and starts wheeling Blast Off's berth towards the back of the clinic. Where's he taking him? "There's a patient here," Starscream says, "who could probably use some company. So this is your first assignment. Keep .. Drift here company." And if Blast Off glances over, he'll notice a slagging creepy aft Drift with a half regenerated face lying on the berth next to him, his brain module is in a translucent bag suspended above him. He twitches a little as soon as Blast Off arrives next to him. "Aw look at at that, how cute!" the seeker taunts, "you two can be new recruit buddies when he wakes up.." He laughs, as if he thinks the whole situation is a hilarious joke. Blast Off doesn't really react to the slap on the back, either. Again, odd for the usually touchy shuttle. Then Starscream starts wheeling him somewhere, and the shuttle's optic ridges furrow down. Wait, where.... Oh slag. Blast Off stares at this abomination... and that's what he thinks even *before* he notices how BAD Drift looks. "....What?" A trace of his customary haughtiness creeps into his voice. He recoils just a bit at the sight. "*What*?" He stares back at Starscream. "Is this a *joke*? He tried to /kill/ me. /Several times/. He *ruined* my..." He stops and refrains from mentioning his earlier date. Wow, that seems so long ago now. "I... no, I..I should *shoot* him...while I..." The shuttle starts looking around for his ionic blaster. "My...wait. Where is it?" He blinks, suddenly realizing his weapon may have been lost- left behind when he was arrested and imprisoned. Starscream just keeps laughing at the Combaticon, finding all of this too funny. "Duly noted," the ruler of Vos says derisively, "and /ignored/. Oh.. what was it that I said just now? You two can be new recruit buddies--my apologies, what I really meant was... you WILL be new recruit buddies. Yes, that's your second assignment, from me, as your commanding officer." He flies up, hovering over the Combaticon. "Ha, you're in a repair bay, did you forget that you were? No mech would be caught dead armed in here." Blast Off is already regretting his decision. Hopefully this won't become a pattern. He stares in helpless horror at Drift and can only repeat, "*What*?!" The shuttle looks at Starscream like he's gone mad... then the fight seems to fade from him. Dull optics gaze at the enemy/"recruitment buddy" he's been saddled with now. "And what if he tries to kill me again? I should have a weapon." Starscream smirks, "Does it/ look/ like he's going to try to kill you anytime soon?" The seeker hovers smugly above the Combaticon, grinning. "/Please/. You'll probably be out of here before he even wakes up, so I don't know what you're getting all riled up for." He laughs. "Anyway, have fun keeping him... company," the seeker says, laughing again as he transforms and flies out of the repair bay, his cruel chuckling echoing off of the whitewashed walls. Blast Off is also deciding that he *really* doesn't like Starscream. At all. He looks up at the Seeker, though his expression is still rather blank- there's just a trace of his usual annoyance to it. Yes, he wants to get out soon. The repairs on his torn and pried-apart body have finished and he mostly just needs a rest before he can go. But now... it seems he'll be back here before he knows it, for some very /unpleasant/ company indeed. Still... anything's better than spark extraction and a whiteout cell. Even *Drift*. Blast Off doesn't reply, simply watching the Seeker leave, then looking back to Drift before settling in once more to try and rest. This new Decepticon is going to need it.